Notes from two continents

This February I was fortunate enough to spend five days in Istanbul, and unsurprisingly, I made a few observations. Rather than explain my activities and thoughts in tedious chronological order, (“20^th February, 9 AM I woke up and went down for breakfast like I do every other day of the bloody year”) I will simply describe the features of the world’s bridge between Europe and Asia that I found interesting which I hope that you do to.

CATS! EVERYWHERE! This may be one of the first things you notice upon taking your first walk down a street in Istanbul, and true cat lovers will undoubtedly multiply their journey times by stopping to pet members of the city’s inexplicably large feline population. These aren't just filthy alley cats too. The majority have beautifully clean fur and seem surprisingly well fed for members of the city’s largest vagrant group, so Istanbul is presumably home to thousands of generous cat loving old ladies. Yet with the exception of several shop owners, I rarely saw any Istanbulites feeding or showing any sort of affection for felines. No one attempts to shoo cats away, rather they are virtually permitted anywhere, a freedom which has instilled in them the confidence to clamber through some of the world’s most beautiful landmarks. Frankly, I’m slightly jealous, and if I were not a human then I would surely ask for the life of an Istanbulite cat.

Joking aside, I still hadn't worked out why there were so many cats when I got back, so I turned to the greatest teacher of all, Google. According to the wisdom of the internet, cats are respected in Muslim countries as one is believed to have thwarted a poisonous snake that was approaching the prophet Muhammad. In modern Istanbul I may not have seen anyone handing food to cats directly, but I later heard that many people have containers outside their houses where they leave meals for their local feline friends. If you place yourself in the dog camp then don’t worry, there are plenty of strays in Istanbul (on second thoughts that’s not a good thing), although they find themselves severely outnumbered by their polar opposites.   

Take a walk along any street in the central Sultanahmet district, or explore an alley of the Grand Bazaar and you’ll likely become the target of the city’s most effective predator, the deadly carpet dealer. One morning we popped into a carpet shop near our hotel, and were greeted seconds after entering by the slickest, most charming salesman I have ever met. Dressed in a smart brown jacket with leather loafers, he spoke almost perfect English and quickly struck up a detailed conversation with my dad about Richmond’s ancient theatre, which, thanks to his Yorkshire-born wife, he knew to be the second oldest in England.

As is the case with many predators, we were soon led down into the basement. There, the dealer extravagantly unravelled countless beautiful carpets, some the size of a bathmat and others large enough to cover my living room floor (which is larger than a bathmat by the way). I was astonished to discover that some pieces the size of prayer mats required six months of work and cost around £2000. Unfortunately for the dealer, we had neither the room nor desire for a carpet and were lucky enough to escape in around 20 minutes, although not before his assistant tried to serve us the curved glasses of red tea that we frequently saw across the city.

In the most frequently visited areas of Istanbul one is constantly pestered by restaurant promoters, whose particularly pushy demeanour is relatively rare in other European holiday hotspots. One time, I was walking on the bank of the Golden Horn by the Galata Bridge when a wide eyed promoter stepped out in front of me, pointed upwards to his left, and ordered me “upstairs!”. After an awkward pause he finished his sentence with “for pizza, chicken, fresh fish”. Under the Galata Bridge itself promoters were particularly forceful, going as far as to walk backwards in front of us to tempt us into entering deserted restaurants.

However, the presence of these advertisers does not equal a bad eatery, and whether we ate in restaurants frequented by foreigners, such as Mozaik, or went to local joints like Ciya, the food was fantastic. I eventually came to the conclusion that Turkish food is fundamentally likeable. It has the perfect balance of fresh vegetables, meat and seafood, and is not overly spicy if one prefers gentler flavours. Furthermore, the service is possibly the best I’ve ever experienced. Waiters, almost always male, were dressed in jumpers and ties or even full suits. They were friendly without feeling forced, attentive without getting irritating and formal without seeming stuffy. Waiters obviously work for tips, yet they seemed genuinely welcoming nonetheless.  

The overwhelming number of male waiters led me to ask myself one interesting question; is this city sexist? Discrimination on grounds of gender is present in any society, yet the general lack of women in many jobs was particularly noticeable. Istanbul seemed like a very relaxed and westernised city. Some women wore Burkas, others had headscarves and many walked with uncovered hair. I noticed no obvious discrimination in behaviour, and both genders seemed to speak to each other as we would here. I am a firm believer that employment equals equality though, and I think that perhaps women are still largely seen as homemakers, even in a modern part of Turkey like Istanbul.